


Marital Arguments

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and the Tardis are having an argument. Neither of them is going to back down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marital Arguments

The Doctor sat in the Tardis corridor, leaning back against the wall, his fierce eyebrows glaring at the opposite roundeled wall. 

“Look, I know you’re irritated at me, but is this any way to behave?” His hands hung between his knees, and the corners of his mouth turned down. 

The Tardis hummed across his back and buttocks, the floor hard underneath him. He turned and glared at each end of the corridor. Both of them stretched out forever into the distance, no door in sight. 

“If you think this is going to make me change my mind, you are sadly mistaken.”

The lights dimmed and brightened, the quality of the hum changed to a buzzing that snapped at the base of his skull. 

“No, I am _not_ wrong, and I am not going to apologize. You had it coming.”

The lights went completely off, leaving him in Stygian darkness. The air around him wafted out scents of annoyed skunk and failed chemistry experiment. 

The gravity cut off, then back on, bouncing him on his newly boney backside. 

He crossed his ankles and leaned back against the wall, his hands behind his head. “Sulk all you like, I can wait as long as you can, got lives to spare now, you know. I’m not as easily bored as I used to be.” He waved an airy hand. “Knock yourself out.” 

He settled back and closed his eyes, lacing his hands over his abdomen. 

The air pressure increased, pressing in on him like a big wooly pet demanding attention. 

“No.” The answer was flat and irrevocable. 

The lights came up dimly, a dingy twilight. He kept his eyes closed. 

Soft sweet music drifted down the corridor, just below the threshold of hearing. 

He shook his gray, curly head.

The lights came almost all the way back up, a creamy white behind the walls. 

He crossed his legs the other way and ignored it. 

Gravity bounced several times, bouncing him out into the middle of the corridor. 

He lay back on the floor and laced his hands over his middle, eyes closed, like he was laid out for a funeral. 

There was a long pregnant pause. The Doctor snored lightly. 

With a long sigh of wind down the corridor, the lights came back up fully, the normal sounds of his busy timeship resumed.

The floor hummed busily under his back. The Doctor opened his eyes. A door faded into appearance in the wall at his feet. 

He jumped up with a smug grin of satisfaction. He opened the door, ready to charge out into the console room. 

It was a bathroom. 

His shoulders sank. “Are we going to go through all this again?”

The bathroom flashed hideously pink. 

“Look!” He threw his arms open wide and glared at the ceiling. His hands fisted on his hips, he leaned forward and glared. “You were filthy. The carwash was the quickest way.”

The bathroom turned plaid.

—

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